It Must Have Been Beautiful

My grandfather carried grief from the war.
He limped to one side. My mother said
there was nothing wrong with his leg.
My grandmother said he always limped
after the war. She didn’t know why.

When my grandfather came home, he
worked every day to build a life for his wife and family.
He loved my grandmother and my mother, not perfectly,
but still he loved them in his way.

Going through photos in his chest, I found
a young Korean girl mixed in with colorless
glossy prints of his army buddies. She seemed
out of place but I knew immediately that
she had been his lover.

It made sense. A young man filled with spunk wondering what day
would be his last meets a young lady feeling lost,
her home country falling around her. Surely they made love.

Holding her photo I though of her life. Had she lived long?
Did she have a family and a life like my grandfather had?
She was young when he knew her..
I tried to picture her with my grandfather.
It must have been beautiful.